Resolutions
by Novindalf
Summary: R/H New Year's fluff. Ruth makes her New Year's resolutions.


**Resolutions**

_Disclaimer__**:**__ I wish._

_Un-beta'd, and written between 1 and 4 am this morning, so mistakes are probable and entirely my own, and feedback is much appreciated =D_

_Enjoy!_

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As the thirty-first of December rolled around yet again, she found herself once more with her pen at the ready, poised on new page of a brand new writing pad, as she began the arduous task of concocting her New Year's resolutions. It was an undertaking that would inevitably, as always, result in more pain than gain, as she attempted to convince herself that this year would be different and that she would actually manage to keep her goals up.

_1. I, Ruth Evershed, will not break my resolutions this year. I will not avoid them, make excuses or exceptions, and I will not let my profound lack of will-power stop me from actually achieving these aims._

There. That was a good, authoritative start. One that would – hopefully – mark the start of her turn-around. Now for some more...

_2. I will stop losing my door keys and having to visit Personnel to get the spare ones._

Another necessity. She had lost count of the number of times that she had knocked meekly on the door to Personnel after such an occasion – often having already left Thames House and made it all the way home before realising she had left her keys on her desk, or in her desk drawer, or, more often than she cared to admit, in the pocket of her coat which had been left forgotten on the back of her chair on the Grid.

Looking down at the so-far short list, she added as an afterthought:

_3. And I will remember to buy the Personnel department a thank you present for all the times I have lost my keys in the past._

Because really, they deserved it. Maybe some nice boxes of chocolate might be nice – everyone liked _Quality Streets_ didn't they?

Including herself. Actually, that was a thought – perhaps she should try to cut down her chocoholism? It might not be having any effects _now,_ but at the rate at which she nibbled on the delectable treats, it was highly likely that they might be rather detrimental in the future.

_4. I will give up eating chocolate._

No. That was _far_ too drastic. There were many things she was willing to sacrifice, but this was not one of them. Why should she give up one of life's valuable treasures when her job meant that said life might not be quite as long as she had hoped for? Not that, as a mostly desk-orientated analyst, there were many opportunities for her life to be in danger, but it was a fairly decent excuse nonetheless.

She glanced back at her first resolution. _'I will not avoid them, make excuses or exceptions...' _Damn. This really wasn't going well so far.

_4. I will do my utmost best to limit my intake of _Quality Streets_, and any similar confectionary._

Much better. It had a similar theme to her previous proposal, and was far more flexible. And flexible didn't (necessarily) mean excuses either.

_5. I will stop yelling at inanimate objects. Shouting at lamp-shades is not conducive to a good working environment, nor is aggressive stapling._

_6. I will take Malcolm's advice and think of a password other than "password". It is far too obvious, and as an intelligence officer, I really should know better._

_7. I will stop abandoning Fidget by staying at work well past my shift._

_8. I will stop remaining on the Grid after said shift is done._

_9. I will stop sneaking back onto the Grid after being told to go home. If the work was that important I would have done it immediately anyway._

_10. I will try to get something that vaguely resembles a social life, even if that only means attending the odd Scratch Requiem and/or choral society every so often._

_11. I will stop yelling out the answers to all the questions when watching quiz programs. They can't hear me and if I really was smart, I'd apply to one so I can make fast money._

Of course, she couldn't possibly ever go on a TV quiz show, given the nature of her job, but that was irrelevant. However...

_12. I will read more books and become more knowledgeable, so that just in case a similar opportunity does arise, I am better prepared._

Now stumped for ideas, she thought about what the generic choices would be. Give up smoking, lose weight, cut down on alcohol and keep fit were the ones that sprang to mind. Well, she didn't smoke, didn't really drink except on special occasions, and her slight frame and frequent trips to the swimming pool – not to mention lack of a car, and constant chasing of Fidget out of the kitchen when cooking fish – ensured she was at a comfortable weight and level of fitness, and was perfectly happy with it. No, she needed some different resolutions – ones more suited to _her_.

She glanced around the Grid for inspiration, and her eyes fell one of their favourite views; a certain occupant of the striking red office across from her desk who found himself unknowingly, but rather frequently, working his way into her thoughts. Ah... Here _was _a subject that she needed much improvement on; her infatuation with Harry Pearce. Who just so happened to be her boss. And, not that she would ever dare admit to anyone, the very man who she had secretly been harbouring less than appropriate feelings for for quitesome time... Yes, this definitely called for a resolution or two.

_13. I will not waste valuable time staring at Harry through the windows of his office._

Not nearly enough, but it was a start, and it was specific. She glanced up at her subject (it wasn't the New Year yet, and she didn't have any pressing tasks to get on with so time wasn't exactly valuable at this moment).

_Though he does look rather nice today..._

His rather pensive stance as he battled his way through another four-inch dossier of Malcolm's creation was certainly an endearing one, and she had to draw her eyes away from his face as his tongue peeped from between in lips in his concentration. She fixed her eyes resolutely back on the page in front of her, and shook her head firmly. Another resolution beckoned.

_14. And I will certainly not entertain thoughts of spending more time with him, or having dinner with him, or kissing him, or him kissing me, or-_

No, hold it _right_ there. This was dangerous territory. _Very _dangerous territory.

She looked up quickly to check that no-one was nearby and could possibly have seen what she was writing, but there was no-one to be seen. Even Harry was suddenly gone from his office cocoon – almost unheard of unless he was at some meeting off the Grid. And he wasn't; she knew his diary better than she knew her own.

"Ruth?"

Jo's questioning voice startled her, and she whirled around to face the young field officer (who had certainly now mastered the art of stealthy approaches from behind).

"Didn't you hear Harry?" Ruth shook her head numbly, her heart racing from the shock of Jo's sudden appearance. "Meeting room, asap." Message delivered, Jo headed back towards the meeting room, leaving a red and flustered Ruth to close the cover on the notebook and stash it haphazardly under some files on the corner of the desk, before following her colleague.

***

"...And while I am aware that tonight is New Year's Eve, please bear in mind that you still have a job to do tomorrow, and that national terrorism will not stop because of your inevitable hangovers." Harry looked pointedly to Adam, Zaf and Jo, all of whom had been discussing their plans for the coming evening at some point over the course of the quiet day. They looked back, their faces perfect pictures of innocence. He was not at all taken in. "Get back to work," he dismissed.

As the team left for their stations, Ruth lingering behind as ever, he addressed her singularly.

"Ruth?" She turned back to face him. "Could you go and give Malcolm a hand in the forgery suite? Translating Persian isn't exactly his forte..."

Pleased that he wasn't going to admonish her for not taking up the first call to go to the meeting room (not that he would have done such a thing anyway), she nodded in acceptance and headed out the door. She had seen a previous attempt of Malcolm's of deciphering Rumi's early prose, and the result had not been pretty.

***

An hour later, as she finally managed to extract herself from references to Persian literature and a mind-boggling array of technological nonsense with the excuse of a cup of tea, her mind returned to her list of resolutions. As she walked across the main body of the Grid, her eyes flitted unconsciously over to her desk. She stopped suddenly.

The notebook was gone.

***

"Shit!" Ruth was not normally one for swearing, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and she whispered the expletive fiercely under her breath. If anyone found the book, if anyone read what she had written...

She hurried back into the meeting room, to check she hadn't accidentally taken it in there with her during the briefing. It wasn't on the table, so she circled the room frantically, bent double as she checked the floor.

She didn't hear the soft click of the door shut, nor notice a new presence in the room, until she almost tripped over a pair of feet which weren't her own. Straightening up, she prepared herself to come up with a quick excuse, but her eyes were drawn to the object held out in front of her.

"Looking for this?" Harry asked, his outstretched hand offering to her the very object she was searching for. "Sorry; I picked it up along with the files on your desk."

"Oh, it's fine." She could not keep the relief from her voice, especially given that he appeared oblivious to the book's contents.

"Really?" He was unconvinced. "Given your reaction, are you sure you're not hiding the secret to the location of the Holy Grail in there?"

Blushing profusely, she held out her hand to take it from him. "I'm sure," she replied, before gesturing vaguely over her shoulder. "Er... Malcolm... Persian... I'd best..."

"Of course," nodded Harry. He watched her as she turned away from him and put her hand out for the door handle.

"You know, it's a shame about that list of yours," he called out suddenly.

"L-list?" she stammered, her throat dry as she faced him once more. He was approaching her steadily. "W-what list?

"This list here," he replied, taking the notebook back from her reluctant hands, and beginning to pace around the central table as he flicked through it. Her cheeks scorching, she turned her gaze to the floor, and fiddled anxiously with the hem of her blouse.

"I-I-I..." She swallowed, and took a deep breath. They were both silent for a few moments as Harry continued tracing the perimeter of the table, and she gathered up the courage to look at him. "It's nothing, Harry," she said, though the scarlet glow of her cheeks and the nervous quaver of her voice told an altogether different story. "Really, it's nothing."

"Nothing?" He replied, the smile that reached his eyes betraying that he did not believe her. "_Really_?" He had completed the circle of the room, and was now standing in front of her. Directly in front of her.

"Well," he murmured. "That _is_ a shame." He looked at her through smiling eyes.

"A shame?" She struggled to voice the words through her mortification.

"Mmm." He nodded slowly, meaningfully, before leaning towards her slightly. "Because I have the exact opposite of several of your pledges on my own list. Number fourteen for example..."

She racked her brains determinedly, trying to figure out what her fourteenth resolution had been. As far as she could remember, she had only written fourteen in total, which meant...

_No...!_ He couldn't...? Surely not...!

She forced herself not to let her jaw drop as she stared at Harry's smirk. If she was right – and she usually was, especially when Harry was involved - then number fourteen was the one that involved-

Her ecstatic understanding of what he was implying would have been enough for her to let out an involuntary squeal, had the sudden pressure of his lips on hers not forced any coherent thought from her mind. Her arms moved instinctively, gently encompassing him as she clasped her hands together at the nape of his neck, just as his hands discarded the now not-needed notebook, and his arms encircled her waist. They kissed hesitantly at first, neither wanting to rush the other, then more firmly, as they each took courage from the other's eager caresses.

When he finally pulled away, both their faces flushed with exhilaration, one look at her elated expression told him he had done the right thing in taking the leap that she would not have dared take. They were both breathing heavily, eyes a-shimmer with what could only be described as pure joy as they struggled to fully comprehend what had happened.

It was Harry who spoke first.

"So it is a shame isn't it? A shame that we can't put my resolutions into practice."

She didn't even need to look at him to know he was joking – his warm arms around her confirmed what she now knew – but she indulged anyway. He beamed at her lovingly, and she couldn't help but beam back. Not that she minded.

"Because then you'd be breaking yours," he continued. "And we can't have that, can we? It would be such a pity..."

"Mmm," she replied, pulling his head down for another kiss. "Pity..."

She had never kept resolutions for more than a day anyway.

_

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_

Happy New Year!

_xxx Nia_


End file.
